


In the Showers

by Bookboy



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clone Sex, First Time, M/M, Original Character(s), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, clone culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-19 08:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22141165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookboy/pseuds/Bookboy
Summary: How two of my OCs, Tank and Fidget, moved from friends to lovers.
Relationships: OC/OC
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	In the Showers

Fidget walked into the barracks, the room dimmed for sleep; his weary eyes automatically cataloging his squadmates. Tenten was still in bacta, Sargent Jay sitting with him, so their bunks were empty. Everyone else was accounted for, sleeping off the battle, except... 

Fidget winced, running his fingers through his slightly longer than regulation hair. Tank's bunk was empty, which meant he was waiting for him in the showers. He wasn't sure why he was expecting anything different. Fidget scowled. Yes, it had been a risk darting out from cover to grab the shiny and drag him back, but what was he supposed to do? Did Tank expect him to just leave him? Leave anyone? 

Slowly, as if he took enough time he could avoid the interaction altogether, Fidget shed his armor, setting it aside to clean later, then his sweaty blacks. Gathering a change of blacks and a towel, he meandered to the showers, dragging it out as long as possible. 

He stepped into the empty showers. Immediately, his gaze found Tank, sitting on a bench, elbows on knees, chin resting on his folded hands. His eyes opened slowly, simmering with anger and other more complicated emotions, meeting Fidget's own. The brothers stared each other down in silence for a full minute. 

"I don't want to talk about it," Fidget broke first, snapping at his partner. 

"That's not up for debate." Tank's voice was tight, angry. 

"I agree. We're not debating not talking about it. See? All done. You can go to bed now." Fidget breezed toward one of the stalls, dismissing Tank. 

Tank growled, standing, only half inch taller and hair wider than the average trooper, but among usually identical brothers it seemed nearly a head taller and the older trooper shamelessly used that to his advantage in arguments, attempting to loom. "Fidget-"

"Do. Not." The medics voice was ice, his shoulders tight, glaring at the shower stall door. "Do _not_ say I should have left him to die in the mud of a perfectly treatable wound simply because I was in danger." He whirled on Tank, jaw clenched and eyes glittering with angry tears. "Even if it means sacrificing my life, I will not leave a man behind. I _can't_ ." Tears began to roll down his cheeks as his voice went soft, barely carrying even in the echoing shower. "Not again. It would _break_ me." 

Tank advanced then, and Fidget tensed, preparing to fight- 

But Tank didn't punch him. Hard hands grasped the sides of his head, tilting his face up ever so slightly, and kissed him, hot and hard and wet. He didn't stop walking, either, his momentum propelling them through the door of the stall and against the wall. The door swung quietly closed behind them.

The impact drove the breath from the medic’s lungs. His mouth dropped open slightly in a gasp, trying to draw air back into his lungs, and Tank pressed forward, slick tongue invading Fidget’s mouth. 

Fidget was frozen, eyes wide. His mind had stuttered completely to a halt. Rational thought gone, he retreated to instinct. 

Hesitantly, he pressed back, uncertain and inexperienced. For a long moment, they stayed like that, the hard lines of their bodies pressed against each other, edging toward a different kind of tension altogether and Fidget felt like he had been swept into the Kamino Ocean, fear and confusion and exhilaration tearing at his nerves equally, the undertow threatening to pull him under-

And then, just as abruptly as it began, Tank pulled away. His mouth left Fidget’s, his body shifting back just enough to ease the crushing pressure, though his hands remained cradling the sides of Fidget’s head and his forehead pressed to Fidget’s own. Golden brown eyes met eyes of the same shade, one set conflicted but soft, the other wide and baffled. 

“I’m sorry,” Tank swallowed thickly, pink touching his cheeks and nose. “I know you’re supposed to ask, first, but... How could you not know yet, vod’ika?” 

“Know what?” Fidget whispered, his breathing coming in rapid pants. 

Tank shook his head. “I _hate_ it when you put yourself in danger like that, because I can’t _stand_ to lose you.” He swallowed, and Fidget could hear it in the silence of the room. “Losing you would break _me_.” 

Fidget blushed himself. “Oh,” he said quietly. Nervously, he licked his lips, blushing fiercer when Tank’s eyes tracked the movement with a heated gaze. 

Tank started to lean in again, and Fidget’s hand came up, laying flat on muscular pectorals and pressing gently. Not enough to be rejecting him, just enough to give himself some breathing room. Tank stopped, shifted back that bare centimeeter, question in his face. 

“I’ve never done this before,” Fidget admitted shyly. His fingers began to beat a fast tempo where they rested against Tank’s chest, matching the beat of his heart, Fidget scowling at his own hand when he noticed and forcing himself to be still. Tank chuckled, the sound vibrating in Fidget’s palm, drawing Fidget’s gaze back to his face to find a fond smile pulling at his mouth. 

Tank gently took his hand in one of his own, cradling it, bringing it up to press a sweet kiss to the meat of his palm, then lowered it back to rest against his chest again, flattening his hand over Fidget’s for a moment before letting his hand fall away, coming to rest on Fidget’s hip. “I like it when you fidget,” he admitted lightly. 

The younger brother laughed, a kind of hysterical, euphoric chuckle, his fingers resuming their drumming pattern, this time matching the beat of Tank’s heart instead of his own, which he could feel beating against his palm. It was fast; not panic-fast, like Fidget’s was, but like he had just finished an easy sport run. 

He had never had a baar’vod before; never had the inclination. Really, he had never had much inclination to sex at all, ever since a particularly ill-advised delve into the sexually-transmitted diseases supplementary manuals at seven. But now, standing here, with his brother warm and steady and looking at him like he was the best thing in the galaxy... 

Fidget could see the appeal. 

Slowly, almost shyly, Fidget reached up with the hand not resting on Tank’s chest, his hand slipping up Tank’s throat to rest at the junction of throat and jaw; his fingertips brushing the short-cropped hair just behind Tank’s ear, thumb gently sweeping over his cheek. Tank watched him, golden eyes fond but anxious, his own hand sliding to match Fidget’s placement and mimic the gesture, shifting his stance slightly. 

Fidget was suddenly reminded, with that shift, that he was currently naked, only a towel thrown over his shoulder, and Tank was close to the same, only wearing a pair of night shorts. No clone was body shy, and being a medic, he was even more familiar with the bodies of his brothers than the average trooper, but here in the shower stall, he suddenly felt more exposed than he had ever been. More... curious. He felt his blush return. 

Heartbeat pounding in his ears, Fidget considered his options. He had no doubt that if he pushed Tank away, told him to leave, that he wasn’t interested, Tank would go. He would be disappointed, quiet and distant for a while after, but he would go, and they would still be brothers by choice after. Similarly, he could ask Tank to wait for some other day, let him think on it a while, and Tank would give him space, wait until Fidget gave him the go-ahead. But on the other hand...

He considered what it might be like. The kiss had been great, despite his surprise; there would undoubtedly be more of those. More of Tank saying nice things, too, probably. And touching... 

Something coiled in his belly, a flush of warmth spreading from that point. Absently, Fidget assessed his own symptoms. Elevated heart rate and respiration. Hyperawareness and hypersensitivity. Disorientation. Slightly increased salivation. Arousal, he identified with a startled inhale. 

Tank’s brow furrowed in concern. His hand dropped from the side of Fidget’s face to rest on the side of his throat instead, two fingers pressing lightly against Fidget’s pulse. “Your heart is racing,” he observed quietly, the ‘you ok?’ unspoken but implied, as usual. 

Fidget smiled, his mind made up. Before he could talk himself out of it, the hand on Tank’s chest lifted, cupping his nape instead, drawing him in. Tank wasted no time. 

Fidget gasped softly when Tank pressed against him again, his kiss hungry, and felt that thing in his belly quiver. He could feel the undertow pulling at him again, but it was ok; he knew Tank wouldn't let him be swept away. 

Tank’s hands were _everywhere_ , stroking, teasing, exploring; the pad of a thumb swiping over Fidget’s nipple, blunt fingernails lightly scratching over his sides, fingertips gently exploring the ridge of scar tissue on Fidget’s thigh. His mouth was hot and relentless, devouring Fidget until he was helplessly trembling against him, drowning in need. Need for what, he wasn’t sure, and he didn’t quite have enough wits about him to worry about it. Fidget’s head was hazy, his own hands desperately gripping Tank’s shoulders, trying to ground himself. He barely realized he was hard until his hips were suddenly moving almost of their own volition, the move more instinct than anything, grinding himself against the answering hardness in Tank’s shorts. 

Fidget broke the kiss with a harsh gasp, throwing his head back against the tile at the friction, stars exploding into his vision. A groan rumbled from Tank, the heavy gunner’s head dropping to rest on Fidget’s shoulder for a second, both of them breathing hard and heavy. 

“Kriff, Vod’ika,” Tank panted, his hands never quite stopping, earning a breathy moan when he turned his head in the cradle of Fidget’s shoulder to begin placing rough, wet kisses on the side of his throat, the short hairs of his neatly trimmed beard tickling and making Fidget squirm. Finally, his hands focused, drifting down below their waists; one curled around Fidget’s hardness, beginning to stroke him, while the other hurriedly worked to lower his shorts just enough to release his own aching cock. Once he was free, he pressed against Fidget, his hand pausing in its rhythm to accept his own cock as well, stroking them in tandem. Fidget jerked and gasped at the unexpected sensation, a low whine spilling from his throat after, his hips moving in shaky, disjointed thrusts against Tank’s hand and cock. 

“Kriff, Vod’ika, so good,” Tank groaned into his skin in between kisses. “So good for me, just let me, here...” His free hand gently guided one of his legs up to hook around his own hip, bringing them just that little bit closer, changing the angle just a little, Fidget willingly letting him manipulate his body. 

“Tank,” Fidget nearly sobbed, feeling like it was all simultaneously too much and too little. He wasn’t sure if his vision had completely blacked out, or if he had just closed his eyes. His hands flexed on Tank’s shoulders, soothing in their warm solidness, and he was sure he was leaving scratches, but he couldn’t bring himself to care in the slightest. “Please,” he whimpered, not sure what he was begging for, only that he needed it. “I-I need-” 

“Shh, I got you,” Tank cooed, a soothing croon in his ear despite how breathless it was, his hand speeding. “I’ve got what you need, just let go...” 

Fidget abruptly went rigid in orgasm, curling forward to bury his face in Tank’s shoulder, smothering a soft scream. Tank bit his lip hard, silencing his own cry, as he spilled right after. 

For a while they just breathed; Tank realized his knees were shaking. _Fek, it’s been a while since I came that hard_ , he thought to himself. Fidget was still shivering a little, burrowed close in Tank’s shoulder as he slowly came down; Tank took a moment to appreciate the sensation, holding him close, gently stroking the thigh still hitched high on his hip. 

Finally, Fidget uncurled, lifting his head. Drowsy golden brown eyes blinked dazedly at Tank, a soft flush still clinging to his cheeks. He licked his lips, Tank's eye tracking the movement with interest. Fidget's blush deepened a touch with a broken inhale. 

"Wow," he finally exhaled, offering Tank a small smile. Tank returned it with a chuckle, reaching up again to cup a warm cheek and caress the skin with a thumb. Fidget’s eyes drifted over him, taking him in, before pausing on his shoulders. Guilt abruptly flashed over his face, Fidget straightening with a soft curse. 

“Fek,” he murmured, slipping into medic mode and pushing Tank away so he could turn him, intensely studying his shoulders and upper back, Tank just disoriented enough from the abrupt 180 degree shift in the mood to let him. “Aw kriff,” Fidget sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scratch you.” 

Tank attempted to observe his own shoulders, more curious than anything. “Really?” he asked. Now that Fidget mentioned it, he did feel a few stripes of faint heat, but barely noticeable. Fidget nodded. 

“Lemme go grab some spread,” he insisted, ignoring Tank’s exasperated sigh and darting off to fetch a jar from the med station on the wall. Tank emerged from the stall as well, observing himself in the mirror. Fidget was right; he had raked thin red lines all over his shoulders and upper back with his nails. Tank smirked at the sight, deciding he didn’t mind one bit. 

Fidget was having none of it, though, pushing him to sit on a bench again and gently smoothing a thin layer of the spread over Tank’s shoulders. He felt the cool gel tingle as the extremely watered-down bacta began to work, healing the abrasions and disinfecting. Fidget’s fingers lingered on his skin long after the spread was applied, gently stroking.

Tank looked up into the mirror, meeting Fidget’s eyes. The medic was frowning, guilt lingering on his face, but when he met Tank’s eyes, a small, tired smile found his mouth. 

“I’m sorry I worried you,” he murmured softly. “But you know I can’t stop, right?”

Tank sighed, shaking his head ruefully. “Yeah, I know.” He chuckled softly. “You’re a good medic, vod’ika. All good medics do that kind of crazy osik. That’s why I got assigned to you, to make sure you come back.” Fidget’s hand had drifted up the back of his neck. Tank closed his eyes at the feeling, bowing his head, offering up his nape. Fidget made a small sound, something between wonder and pleasure. His fingers rubbed more firmly, easing tension in knotted muscles, right at the base of his skull. Tank bit back a groan. 

Softly, he continued. “I thought you knew I wanted you. Were flirting back, just taking it slowly. I wasn’t angry because you went to help the shiny; I was angry because I thought you were disregarding my feelings.” The confession hung in the air between them, the whole room seeming to hold its breath. 

“I really didn’t realize,” Fidget replied sheepishly. “I just thought it was playful banter.” He paused thoughtfully, adding, “Though, in retrospect, some things are making a lot more sense. And some other things are a lot dirtier.” 

Tank laughed, shaking his head slightly, trying not to dislodge the wonderful hand still massaging his neck. “Figures. I knew you were dense, I didn’t think _that_ dense.” 

“Hey,” Fidget grumbled. “I’m not dense, I’ve just never had anyone interested in me before. We can’t all be like you, trail of baar’vod left in our wake.” 

Tank looked up again, suddenly curious. “You said that you’ve never done this before.” He watched Fidget’s face color in the mirror, the medic nodding. “Was that your first kiss, too?” Fidget’s blush deepened. Tank felt his heart soften even more. He really had no idea how cute he was, did he? 

The older clone turned, catching Fidget’s downturned gaze and reaching up to grasp his dislodged hand. Gently, he tugged Fidget down, the medic obligingly sitting on the narrow bench beside him, facing the other direction, his body language shy but still meeting Tank’s gaze. Tank chuckled, thumb rubbing the hand it held soothingly. 

“Hey. I know I came on strong, but if you’re not comfortable, tell me, ok?” Tank said, soft but firm. “We can take it as slow-” Fidget’s abrupt but firm head shake made him chuckle again. “-Or as fast as you want.” Boldly, he let go of Fidget’s hand, reaching up to cup his cheek again instead. 

_Should do it properly_ , he thought to himself. Fidget deserved that. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly. Fidget tensed, swaying just a bit closer, his breath catching, his pupils dilating. Tank relished being close enough to take in those details, his thumb stroking a high cheekbone, waiting for his answer. 

“Yes,” Fidget finally breathed out, giving a miniscule nod. Tank moved. 

His hand slipped down to cup the nape of Fidget’s neck, guiding him gently in. Fidget went without resistance, lax and willing. This kiss was not the heated, rough, wet kisses in the shower stall; it was soft, a gentle meeting of lips. Fidget tilted his head, trying to make it deeper, but Tank stalled him, coaxing him back down, keeping it sweet. The medic whined softly, and Tank preened. Fidget deserved to know it didn’t have to be about sex to be good. 

Despite that, when they parted, Tank found they had shifted closer, Fidget nearly in his lap. They were pressed together, both twisted a little to face each other better, Fidget’s arm wrapped around Tank’s middle so his hand could rest on his opposing side, holding him close. Fidget seemed a bit shell-shocked, his expression stunned and hands completely still for once. Tank smiled fondly and pressed their foreheads together, waiting patiently for him to recover. 

“You know,” Fidget finally said, still a bit breathless, “I’m starting to think I might have been missing out.” 

Tank snorted. “Come on,” he chuckled. “Let’s get cleaned up.” 

Fidget glanced down at them, his nose wrinkling, as if just realizing he not only still hadn’t cleaned the battle-grime off, but now also had a smear of off-white ejaculate on his belly matching the one on Tank. “Agreed,” he grunted, slowly extracting himself from the embrace to stand. He almost seemed reluctant to break contact, something in Tank’s chest warming at the observation. When he turned back to face Tank again instead of going straight to a stall, shifting a bit in place with a shy blush on his face again, Tank felt an eyebrow raise. 

“You know,” Fidget started slowly, his gaze seeming transfixed on Tank’s shoulders. “You’re going to need a hand getting that spread off. Cleaning your own shoulders is a pain.” 

Tank felt his other eyebrow raise. “Are you offering to help, Medic?” he asked archly, a trace of amusement and flirtation in his voice. 

Fidget’s eyes finally met his, and Tank felt arousal curl in his belly again at the undisguised heat in his eyes, at odds with the blush still on his cheeks. “Maybe,” he nearly purred, and how could Tank have thought he was flirting before when faced with the real thing? 

The heavy gunner rolled agilely to his feet, and followed Fidget back into the shower stall.

**Author's Note:**

> Technically this is part of a series I'm working on that isn't ready to be posted yet, but more like a short story within that universe than a component of that series so I'm not going to include it under that banner. I may post additional bits of these two, but for now this will stay just a one-shot. For clarification: 
> 
> vod'ika: little brother. Term of endearment in this context  
> baar'vod: lit 'body brother', basically means anything from friend-with-benefits or fuck buddy to very casual boyfriend. 
> 
> This is my first time posting porn, so please, all praise and criticisms are welcome!


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